Reruns 'til Dawn
by AnimeFreak12421
Summary: After Gaea, he regretted never telling his mother anything. She blamed herself for everything her son was put through. The war is only over with the Giants, but not with themselves.
1. lack of understanding

**A/N** It's been awhile FanFiction! I just wanted to tell you my last story, The Trials of Artemis, will most likely will never be finished like many of the pieces of writing on this website. But if anyone is interested in taking up the challenge and making it better (it's hideous at the moment, I know), I'd love to tell you the meaning of the prophecy and the story line I had in store. I'm much better at writing emotional one shots and short chaptered stories like this one. Just wanted to tell you that if you really have been waiting a year or more for that next chapter, it's not coming. But you don't have to worry about this one not being finished, I'm half way done and I am NOT GIVING UP.

**Disclaimer:** _Percy Jackson & the Olympians_ and the _Heroes of Olympus_ (c) Rick Riordan

* * *

Percy hesitated.

As Percy stood alone in front of the small apartment in which him, his mother, and his step father resided. Anxiousness was overwhelming for the sight of his mother once more and he wanted nothing but to wrap his arms around his mother and warmly embrace her but . . . he couldn't yet. After Hera had removed Percy from his situation at the Greek training camp, Camp Half-Blood, to situate him with the camp's Roman counterpart in order to unite the two previously rivaling demigods so Gaea could be stopped from destroying the Olympians, he yearned for his mother. Everything he wanted was right in front of him, only a wooden door separating him from his goal, yet Percy couldn't do it.

Inching closer and closer to the knob, Percy's hand trembled and then drew back. Glancing down at his hand, he realized the obvious yet again. He could have talked to Sally Jackson sooner, but instead, he left it off to the last minute without giving her a moments notice. Images flashed in his mind as Percy remembered all the opportunities which presented themselves in the past few weeks. When Percy was in Alaska on a quest to free Death, he had contacted his mother over the phone but never got the chance to talk to her. Instead he left a message of a mere ten measly sentences which he deeply regretted saying. The dialogue may have given his mother a heart attack since after six months of silence, she would discover her son is on a life threatening quest on the other side of the country. But before he could say any more, the train which he was supposed to board was departing in a few minutes.

Even worse, when Percy set off on the Argo II, he mostly spent his time checking on Annabeth, polishing the weapons, exploring the interior of the ship, or contemplating what should be the next pointless task to fill his time. He could have Iris messaged his mother at any time but he still just milled around until the next attack. Percy didn't have a drachma he could utilized as an offering to the messenger goddess, but that was just an excuse. Annabeth had emergency drachmas in case of the sudden need to contact any of the people at Camp Half-Blood. She would've understood and could spare one for Percy.

After the war, Percy waited for Chiron to give him the affirmation he could return home but the camp needed to be resurrected from the chaos and destruction left behind by the recent battle. Percy attended meeting after meeting with the his fellow cabin counselors around the ping pong table recounting what exactly happened on the quest in Europe. After the shocked faces and uncomfortable glances were just a thing of the past, Percy grew increasingly anxious. In all that spare time, he never even thought twice about speaking to his mother. Why had he never thought of that?

Then again, Percy's girlfriend, Annabeth, had been in danger along with him for the past month so all he could seem to focus on was her well being. Annabeth's safety was consuming all his thoughts but he still couldn't shake the guilt due to the fact he had pushed his mother almost completely out of his mind. He tried to convince himself that it was top priority to keep Annabeth safe at the time, but he would always confront his feelings and know he was being careless with his familial relationships.

He had changed massively. He wasn't the same anymore, not after what he survived. But he still owed it to his mom to say hi in the very least.

A chill ran down his spine and Percy turned instinctively. This was usually a bad sign from his experience but he couldn't let it get to him at the moment. Gaea was defeated by the demigods, at least for now so Percy knew he could be at rest. Still, he gripped Riptide inside the pocket of his black summer shorts. He shoved his left hand into his jacket pocket as he opened the door, Anaklusmos still in hand.


	2. getting over what is in the past

**A/N:** Sorry you had to wait so long on this one. School got a bit out of hand. I'll try to update on Thanksgiving Weekend!

**Disclaimer:** Percy Jackson & the Olympians and The Heroes of Olympus (c) Rick Riordan

* * *

Sally wept. She really did.

She sat on the worn stool with paint chipping away on her cotton socks. The linoleum floor hadn't been swept in weeks so bits of flour or cereal clung to her soles. Her kitchen was a bit of a wreck with random empty boxes littered about the counters, open bags of food around the place, or unwashed dishes on the table. Sally didn't have the heart to clean, not anymore. Occasionally on her good days she'd throw out a few pieces of trash but she mostly sat by the phone waiting for the golden call. Paul couldn't always keep her in check and help her complete even the most mundane tasks so she'd just have to live with this messy kitchen. She couldn't get her mind off of him anymore, which was horribly distracting to her writing. She couldn't write, clean, or even do anything without having her son returned to her.

Even after years of unjust treatments, she still managed to not blame the gods for putting her son in danger time after time. Now, they had wrecked her, Sally was trapped in the Underworld without the tiniest sliver of desire to escape if it meant her son would be safe. It's been five years since that incident and he was gone again.

It was terribly unfair but she insistently told herself she signed herself up for this suffering that wasn't really suffering until now. She willingly had a child with a god. Gods played but different rules and lacked the big consequences for their mistakes, Mistakes someone had to pay for, and that person was Sally. SHe only had herself to blame for the suffering of the poor soul she called her son.

Pain welled up inside of her, she was a mess. So broken, Sally couldn't even think his name without sobbing. Then again what's another sob in a swarm of thousands? Each tear was a drop of water in the ocean of emotional pain leaking into the dam of her breaking heart.

In the past seven months Sally kept hurting herself trying to pick up the shattered pieces of her life. In the first month she was merely mildly worried. She knew being a demigod was dangerous so she merely assumed that Percy had snuck off and accidentally gotten into some trouble. Then she stopped kidding herself. Something was obviously wrong and pretending it wasn't there wasn't going to solve the troubling dilemma. After a month and a half, Sally phoned the police. She wasn't going to sit around and do nothing while her son was missing. As much as she trusted Camp Half-Blood, she needed more people looking. More people searching and scouring all over . . . everywhere. WIth the meager money they had, Sally and Paul set out a reward for whoever could find their son. No such luck. Calls kept coming in claiming they knew of the whereabouts of the elusive teenager, but none of them completely fit the description. The police search was fruitless. Nothing in three months.

Then an odd mix of empty nest syndrome and high anxiety set in and stayed there. Paul attempted to return to work, but he couldn't stand to see Sally in so much pain alone. Paul worked at home half of the time working on paperwork for his job, the other half working on the search or consoling Sally. She knew he was trying his best, but it wasn't helping much. Eventually Sally became distant from Paul, refusing his comfort. After four months, she let the sadness in. All the memories of _him _she let in so she could bask in the happier times. She wanted to remember everything about him so it was as if her was still here. As if she were looking through the pages some album, Sally flipped through her own memories.

Just as Sally Jackson ended the worst of the repetitive cycling session of self loathing, crying, emptiness, anger, the squeaky door of the apartment sounded. Most likely Paul. Sally knew. Besides her son, Paul was the only person sally was aware of possessing a key to the apartment. Squeaky footsteps glided their way from the from the entrance to the living room which were then cushioned by the carpet. The footsteps were getting closer to the kitchen and Sally braced herself. Paul had always confronted Sally in the kitchen where there was no other way out or possible excuse to escape since Sally completed most of her work in the kitchen. Her shoulders tensed just as the gentle tap of his hands contacted her jacket. The feeling still lingered after the brush of his fingers left her shoulder.

"Paul, if you could respect me des-sires, I wish t-to be left," She paused. "Alone." The word felt bitter in her mouth. Sally ever really felt alone. It sounded romantic but the real reason she never felt alone was her nagging feelings demanding all her attention, not because Paul was always there for her. Which he was.

Paul replied to her request but not coming from a foot from her, but from farther away. "What are you talking about? I'm in the bedroom." Sally could still feel the presence of another person next to her. She couldn't completely compute what was happening, except with one scenario in mind. Unfortunately, doubted it. She didn't want to have her hopes dashed once more. She couldn't expect miracles to happen, so she only wished for simple things. Although, nothing else would really explain anything except . . .

"Percy."


	3. an old photograph

**A/N:** I should seriously stop making deadlines when I know I won't keep them. I was just working on a Jason Reyna Friendfiction. Excuses aside, sorry it's shorter than usual and late. I originally wanted it to be combined with something else but I decided to divide the writing and make it two chapters so you could get this piece now. Enjoy!

* * *

Sally wanted embrace her son and never let him go to check for existence, or cry until she ran out of tears, or scream out to Paul in excitement, but she didn't do a single one of those things. Every time she imagined Percy coming home, it usually ended in one of those outcomes, but Sally merely stared at her son in disbelief. She scanned him from his feet to his vivid green eyes that seemed even greener than she could remember. Everything about Percy seemed different. His hair grew longer, he had grown an inch since he had disappeared, and the grey streak that once was obviously noticeable was barely even lingering on his jet black hair. Something about his smile didn't seem as familiar as she thought it would be. It was as if Sally had been viewing a photograph of someone she knew from years ago feeling she knew exactly what they appeared to be to only discover that they had transformed in her absence.

After that Sally started tearing up. She turned slowly to not let Percy see her cry. Instead, she picked up where she left off with her baking an hour ago. She hoped Percy wasn't disappointed in what she had become without him. She wanted to show her son you could still be productive, even in the worst of times. But, with all obviousness, Sally didn't put much effort into that goal. Several times, she dropped the bag of chocolate chips or misplaced the blue food dye. She knew Percy could see her fumble around so she started to talk before she could make a gigantic fool of herself.

"Now what kind of time do you call this?" Sally almost couldn't believe she could make a joke in her emotional state. Losing interest in humour is one of Sally's personal side affects of losing her son for over half the year.

Percy spoke in his all too familiar voice that urged Sally to stop being so conscious, and re-enact the perfect ending to her recent madness. "Ha, I call it eight months late. But, I'm home now." Sally was a bit irritated at that so called 'humorous' response because it reminded her how long he had been absent from her life. But, she bit back any comments because she didn't want to offend her recently returned son. "So, not that I'm not thrilled to see you, but where's Paul?"

As if on cue, Paul Blofis strided into the kitchen with a laptop satchel at his side and a shocked look plastered upon his face. Sally turned to see Paul encompassing his stepson in elation and sadness. Percy hugged him back and said something rather muffled that was probably "Hi Paul."

After their embrace, Sally estimated Percy was now a mere two inches shorter than Paul, making Sally three inches shorter than her son so she had to look up into her son's eyes instead of down onto his head like when he was twelve. Percy seemed to notice Sally observing him and made a comment on the subject.

"Mom, I know a lot's changed," His tone sounded almost somber but hopeful as well. His inflection caused him to sound as if he wanted to say something but was afraid to speak it. "But I'm here to change everything back to normal, or at least make it work." His smile seemed strained but he was trying.

"That's a wonderful idea," Paul announced. Sally noticed his eyes were strung with red lines as of he was about to start crying. And before Sally could say anything else, to object or to agree she wasn't sure, Paul's hand was on her back escorting her along to the living room. Percy followed closely behind.


End file.
